


Petal

by pinkhairedhoe



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Arthur, Canon Divergent, Coming Out, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Minor Angst, Mutual Pining, One-Sided Relationship, gay merlin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:34:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25524484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkhairedhoe/pseuds/pinkhairedhoe
Summary: Merlin generally tolerates his work as Arthur's manservant, setting aside the prince's arrogance. Keeping his magic secret is hard and all, but he feels like he's forming an genuine friendship.Then he wakes up coughing rose petals and faces his own mortality.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39





	1. Onset

**Author's Note:**

> hello! yes i can write for other fandoms i do have it in me. this is mostly an experiment—if people like it i will absolutely publish more! pls comment and give kudos to let me know
> 
> tw: coughing, mentions of choking
> 
> twitter: @pinkhairedh0e

Merlin awoke to a thudding headache and a scratchy throat. _I hate being sick. Arthur’s annoying enough when I’m healthy._

He tried to ignore the prickly sensation as he ate breakfast. Gaius looked at him curiously.

“Is everything alright, Merlin?”

The boy nearly choked. Gaius clumsily rushed to his feet and gave him several strong thuds to the chest.

“Ack,” Merlin groaned. “What, what is that flavor—”

A small heap of pink rose petals lay on the floor. The old sorcerer delicately picked one up. “I don't believe roses were in your porridge,” he said sternly.

“You think?”

Gaius shuffled over to his books. “I’ve heard of this before, never witnessed it,” he mumbled.

“Sorry, could you speak up a bit? Would love to know what on Earth has happened to me and why I’m coughing up a garden,” Merlin said between rough coughs. A few more crumpled petals fell into a bucket he was now cradling in his lap.

“I’m afraid you’ll not like the news I have for you, dear boy.”

“Tell it to me straight, doc.”

“First I need an honest answer. Are you in love with anyone that you are aware of?”

Merlin almost choked again. This time he spat the offending petal out quickly. “What? What does my romantic life have to do with the bouquet I’m producing?”

Gaius plopped a thick dusty book onto the table. “It has everything to do with it. You appear to be suffering from hanahaki.”

“Bless you, what?”

“It’s a disease that only affects those who love those who do not love them back. The afflicted suffers from coughing, wheezing, and sometimes vomiting. The cough produces rose petals, usually red or pink, though yellow and white have been observed,” he read aloud.

“I could care less about the colors, Gaius, how do I fix it?”

He chuckled. “It ends only with the death of the victim or reciprocated feelings. You apparently don't even know who needs to love you.”

“I always assumed people were joking about dying of heartbreak but here I am.”

“I can’t necessarily cure you, but I can give you a potion,” Gaius said, standing up. “It will disguise your symptoms as a normal cold. We’ll use that for today I suppose. By tomorrow I may be of more help.”

Merlin reluctantly took a small vial. “I don't think I’ve had one potion from you that tastes like anything edible.”

“It’s that or rose petals, Merlin.”

Compared to the acrid, floral bitterness of roses, he could handle the sting of the potion as it went down.

“Will Arthur be asking much of you today?” Gaius asked, taking another large tome from his bookshelf.

“Uh, I’m not sure.” Merlin felt another cough rise in his throat and he braced himself for the petals again. He certainly didn't sound healthy, by any means, but no plants.

“Once he hears that cough, he’ll probably send you away,” the old man laughed. “Which is all the better to figure out a solution. Please reflect on who it may be, too. I doubt I can do anything without that information.”

Merlin nodded as he pulled on his jacket. “I’ll—I’ll think about it,” he promised.

-

“Merlin?” Arthur called, muffled. His face was buried in a heap of pillows on his bed. Merlin looked out the window to see a clear, noon sky. An untouched lunch sat on the table.

“Yes, your laziness?” Merlin said.

“Shut up,” Arthur whined. He sat up, pulling his blanket down and— _my God, he slept near naked._

He was in undergarments, so he wasn't fully bare or anything, but Merlin was not mentally prepared. His face felt hot.

The blonde boy made a face. “Why do you look so uncomfortable? I always sleep like this in the summertime,” he said, sitting down to eat. The brunet took a step to the side.

“Well, I wasn't aware of it.” He turned to cough into his elbow and Arthur made another face.

“You sound horrible,” he said, chewing on a chicken leg. “Sure you’re not contagious or anything?”

“I know I sound dreadful,” Merlin said back. He couldn't answer the prince's question honestly—he didn't actually know—but from the description he was given Arthur would likely be fine. _Any girl he falls in love with was probably already planning their wedding._

“Hello? Merlin? Daydreaming again?” Arthur snapped in front of his face and he was jerked back to reality. Arthur’s very muscular chest was far too close to Merlin for his liking and he stepped back once more out of instinct.

“Yeah, just, never mind,” he said sheepishly. “Not contagious.”

Arthur brushed it off. “Alright then,” he said, with a raise of his eyebrows. “On that note, I wanna ride this afternoon. Get my horse brushed and saddled, will you?”

“As you wish,” Merlin said dramatically, actually grateful for the opportunity to distance himself. “Ought to be ready by the time you’re done and dressed.”

The blonde man nodded and gestured with a free hand for Merlin to excuse himself.

Out in the hall and then in the stables, the boy felt like he could finally breathe. He wasn't expecting to see that much of Arthur today. His blushing face cooled quickly in the crisp breeze. It was a rather nice day out. _He picked a good day to ride,_ he thought to himself.

As if on cue, Arthur rounded the corner down to the stable and clapped his hands together just as Merlin clasped the final buckle on the saddle. “Lovely,” Arthur said, giving his horse an affectionate pat on the nose. “Could you pass me a few sugar cubes for him?” he asked.

Merlin obliged and fetched him a handful. Arthur gave two to the horse and was left with two in his palm. He popped one in his mouth. He raised his eyebrows and held the last cube out. “Want one?”

“Oh, I guess so,” the brown-haired boy began, reaching out his hand.

“Open your mouth, Merlin, your hands are filthy from cleaning up,” Arthur chuckled. “You certainly don't want to eat with those hands.”

He glanced down. He’s not wrong. They were streaked heavily with saddle polish and dirt.

Reluctantly, Merlin let his mouth open and felt Arthur’s calloused fingers brush his lips. The sugar cube’s sweetness was near overwhelming in combination. He resisted the urge to cough.

“Have you never had one of those before?” the prince asked.

He quickly realized how odd his expression must look and decided to lie to cover up the weird feeling in his stomach. “Uh, yeah. Really—” he let himself cough, “really sweet. Not bad, just, just new.”

Arthur laughed and mounted himself on the horse. “Well, I suppose I’ll see you around supper.” He kicked his heel against the hind of the animal and he went trotting off.

Merlin took a deep wheezing breath. _Yeah, supper._


	2. The Hunt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for the love! i'm not quite sure what direction this will go, nor the length. i'm feeling a possible slow burn, so prepare for that!
> 
> i'm not extremely familiar with hanahaki so i'm taking some liberty—if you are, and this isn't similar to other fics, that would be why

In the interim, Merlin stopped by his quarters with Gaius to check in on his research. “Any progress?” he asked, coughing into his sleeve.

The old man shook his head. “Sadly, no. I checked all my books—apparently knowing who one is in love with doesn't help, by the way, but still would be good to know. Meanwhile, I’ll prepare more of the disguising potion. It won't cure you by any means,” he warned.

“How long do I have? Do I need, like, a written confession of love? Verbal declaration?”

Gaius stoppered a vial and tilted his head in thought. “From what I gather, it only requires reciprocated love. The other person simply has to love you, regardless of whether they realize or not.”

“This all feels deeply unfair,” Merlin said, coughing again. 

“Many things are unfair, Merlin. You're magically inclined, you’re sensitive to these sorts of magical ailments. The average person doesn't get hanahaki.”

“Great, so I’m only dying by rose bush because I’m special? I’m not even aware I loved anyone!”

The white haired man rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say. Maybe ask a friend what to do, I’m an old man, I’m not privy to your romantic life.”

“I’m barely privy to it myself. and it’s _mine_ ,” Merlin said. He left, promising Gaius he’d ask Gwen her opinion.

-

After checking Arthur’s rooms and the stables to make sure he hadn't returned, Merlin went in search of Gwen. He found her delivering one of Morgana’s gowns to the seamstress to have a rip in the hem repaired.

“It caught on a loose nail on her chair, she was very upset,” Gwen said, rubbing the fine fabric between two fingers. She set it down on the table and the palace seamstress whisked it away. “Anyway, what did you need me for? Where’s your royal master?” she teased.

“He’s riding, I have something rather important to ask you,” he said in a hushed tone. He gave a polite nod to the women working in the room and led Gwen into the hall. 

“Is something wrong, Merlin? Should I be worried?”

“Well, yes and no? I suppose you should? But I also don't want to worry you, you have important things to take care of—”

“Just tell me!”

“First of all, lower your voice. Second, you must promise to keep this a secret.”

Gwen nodded.

“I'm in love with someone and I don't know who.”

Her eyes grew wide in shock and she moved to speak, halted by Merlin holding out his finger. “That's not everything.”

“According to Gaius, I’m suffering from some magical disease. It’s called hanahaki, it means I cough up roses until I die from it or until the person in question loves me back.”

Gwen’s face contorted further. An odd mix of disbelief, shock, happiness, and deep worry played on her expression. She opened her mouth, promptly closed it, then opened again. “As much as I’m inclined to believe you, I would like proof.”

Merlin dug in his pocket for the petal he took from Gaius’ workbench. “Are there any pink roses on the grounds of this palace?” he asked.

“No,” Gwen breathed. 

“So you believe me?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I don't know how much time I have until I can't cover up my symptoms anymore, so do me a favor.”

“Alright, what is it?”

“Tell me honestly, do you love me?”

“Of course I do, Merlin—as a friend.”

“I don't think I'm in love with you either. Fantastic.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “There’s only so many more people it could be.”

“Maybe another lady-in-waiting? You interact with Morgana’s ladies every once in a while.”

“If you can ask that would be quite helpful. Just, please, in a timely manner. Gaius hasn't told me how quickly it gets fatal.”

“I, of course. Yes, I’ll start asking this evening,” she promised. 

Merlin peered over her shoulder to see Arthur come atop the crest of the hill through the window. “There he is, I have to go.”

-

Merlin jogged through the castle to reach the stables, where Arthur was watering his horse somewhat begrudgingly. 

“Finally, Merlin, there you are. Took you long enough,” he said. “What kept you?”

“I was, uh, asking Gwen something,” the brunet answered casually, hanging up the saddle. 

“Asking Gwen what?”

“Something,” Merlin repeated.

Arthur furrowed his brow. “Why so vague? Is there something I should know about you and Gwen?” His voice had a teasing lilt and the warm feeling returned to Merlin’s face.

Clenching his jaw, he replied, “None of your business regardless.”

“Oh come on, just because you’re in my employ doesn't mean I can't know about your personal life nor care about it, boring as it likely is."

Merlin rolled his eyes but made sure to stay facing away from Arthur as he finished. The idea that he was invested in his life outside of being his servant only made his cheeks feel hotter. _Since when did Arthur even consider me human?_

“It was actually nothing, your highness,” he said firmly, turning around. “Gwen and I are friends who interact on occasion. That's all you need to know.”

Arthur seemed to bristle slightly at the “your highness”. Truthfully, Merlin only used it when he wanted to be a bit of a sarcastic ass, which was near daily, but the prince looked more upset than annoyed.

“Do you need anything else?” Merlin asked.

The blond shook his head. “No, I likely have food in my quarters waiting for me so I’ll be retiring for the night.”

Merlin coughed. Reflexively, he clamped his hand over his mouth, and saw a petal in his palm. He panicked a little and balled up his fist firmly.

He gave the smaller man an awkward but well meaning shoulder pat as he left. “Get some rest yourself, that cough sounds worrisome.” 

“Of course,” Merlin mumbled. His skin under his tunic where Arthur has touched him was on fire.

-

“Gaius? Hello?” Merlin called.

He heard an annoyed grunt. “Yes, boy?”

“Your potion isn't really doing much,” he said, presenting the petal as evidence.

“Fascinating, it was working perfectly well earlier today, was it not?”

“This hanahaki stuff may be more fast acting than your book said.”

“I’m surprised I even had anything on the subject,” Gaius admitted. “All of this is extremely new, I’m not sure how it is affected nor how it progresses.”

“Maybe it's worse around the one you’re in love with?” Merlin suggested. He fell backward onto his bed and groaned. He coughed. He paused to spit a petal out, then continued, “Could keep a tally of how much I cough around certain people tomorrow.”

The old wizard contemplated the idea. “I mean, it’s your mortality we’re dealing with here. Whatever method you feel is necessary in determining a cure is perfectly fine.”

“I’ll try it then. It may be somewhat suspicious if I'm keeping parchment on me though.”

Gaius got up and handed Merlin what looked like an ordinary list of herbs and plants. He muttered a quiet word under his breath and the page appeared to be blank. “Enchanted parchment,” he said. “Write on it.”

Merlin scribbled “A" on the page. 

“The word is “rabbit.” Nothing special about it, it's just the word I chose.” Suddenly, the name disappeared and the grocery list was in its place.

“I hate not knowing things about magic,” Merlin said, setting the paper aside. “Especially when I could possibly die.”

“I wish I could say I understood. Now, get your rest. If anyone asks, the paper will be just that list. Say they're ingredients I need. No one should question you. Go to bed.”

Merlin slept, with only little interruption from roses.

Before leaving his chambers Merlin tucked a piece of charcoal and the magic parchment into his pocket. Gaius was still asleep, but the bottled potion was left out on the work table for him. Arthur had apparently asked for him quite early for some task.

“The sun isn’t even up yet,” he groaned. He made a fist to knock on the door, but Arthur opened it suddenly. He looked very much awake.

“Morning,” he said briskly. “You look lively.”

“Arthur, it’s before dawn. What do you need me for?”

“I want to go on a hunt, but none of the palace’s knights nor my father want to come along. None of the ladies-in-waiting seemed interested either, so I came to you as the next best option.”

“What an honor. Truly, I’m shocked.”

“Very funny, Merlin. We’ll need to ride out to the countryside—carriage, not a horse, we’ll need room for the spoils.”

Merlin held down a gag at the idea of gathering animal carcasses. It put a dent into his plan, too, but hopefully this wouldn't take all day.

Arthur pat him firmly on the back, nearly knocking the wind out of him. He coughed a little.

“Come on, then.”

The boy nodded weakly as he pretended to be frozen from the shock. Once the prince had disappeared out of the doorway and into the hall, he wrote the letter A and made one tally mark. _Probably just a fluke._

-

Six hours and one deeply uncomfortable carriage ride later, Merlin was making his 31st tally mark. Arthur was looking at him oddly now.

He aimed the crossbow at a flying goose and took it down. One of his hunting dogs went running after the bird with a simple gesture.

“By God, Merlin, what do you keep writing? I was scarcely aware you were literate.”

“Notes for Gaius,” he said casually.

“Notes about what?”

“Things. You wouldn't understand.”

The blonde rolled his eyes. “I’m sure I couldn't.”

Merlin looked at the ever growing heap of hunting trophies beside him. “How many is that now?” Arthur called.

“Uh, 14?”

He paused to wipe sweat from his forehead. “That’s enough for today, my stress is relieved.”

“I was wondering why you were aiming so aggressively. You shot like four down in ten minutes.”

“My father bearing down on me will do that.”

Merlin reluctantly began to pick up geese and pheasants. He ignored his rising disgust. “About what in particular?”

Arthur laughed lightly. “It’s quite stupid in retrospect.”

“Oh come on, can’t be that stupid. I mean, can't be stupider than you are.”

The prince sighed and ignored Merlin’s jab. “Well, he’s become insistent I marry rather soon,” he said casually. 

Merlin couldn't fully conceal his shock as they got into the carriage. “Is there any reason for this? Is he ill? Is he stepping down?”

“Not that I’m aware,” he said, shrugging. “Knowing my father, It’s likely not anything that’s for my own good, probably some political alliance he wants secured in his lifetime.”

“That does sound unfortunate.”

“I doubt the decision of who will fall to me anyway, regardless of motive.”

Merlin took the opportunity to pry somewhat. “Were you hoping that it would because you have someone in mind?”

The carriage grew quiet—as quiet as it could be with the wheels bouncing on uneven ground and the trot of horses outside.

“You don't have to answer, it’s perfectly fi—” Merlin said quickly, stumbling over his words before the man across from him held a finger up.

“It’s not an unreasonable question, I’ll answer,” he said. He chose his words carefully as he spoke next. “I want the chance to choose not out of previous interest, but to have some control over my life. My fate, I suppose. Many aspects of it are already set in stone.”

_God, if only he knew._

“I do like the idea of making a choice that would infuriate Uther. I make him angry enough as is by doing basically anything.”

“Well, if he does leave your choice of bride up to you, there’ll be a line from the palace door to the outer walls of Camelot,” Merlin joked. “I’ve heard maidens at jousting competitions, they have _very_ creative minds.”

Arthur looked visibly uncomfortable. “Oh, wow. I’m not going to press for details.”

“You do not want them.”

Another small silence passed.

“I’m simply trying to say you’re a popular man. The people adore you, in more ways than one.”

The blond looked purposefully out the window. “I don't think my popularity will save me from an arranged marriage, but it’s nice to have.”

“I can’t imagine having something like that decided for me,” Merlin muttered. 

Arthur's gaze snapped back to him. “You're lucky in more ways than you know. Your life hasn't been planned out since you were born. I envy your freedom at times.”

_I wish I could tell him I understand that better than anyone._

“I’m jealous of almost nothing else about you, especially the sticklike frame and feminine mannerisms,” Arthur continued, “but the agency is enviable.”

“Ah, there it is!” Merlin exclaimed. “Can’t get through one nice sentence about me without a dig or three.”

“I certainly do not know what you’re talking about, I’m nothing if not cordial to you,” the prince said, chugging from his waterskin. A few rivulets trailed down his neck toward the collar of his shirt. 

“What a noble soul,” Merlin said.

He coughed again.


	3. Bloom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> me? returning to finish a fic a month later??? . . . yeah.
> 
> anyway, thank u for the kudos!! i don't really know what i'm doing with this n it's nice to have validation. here's a quick lil chapter to give y'all some drama, hehe

Merlin was freed of his duties for the rest of the late afternoon, and he purposefully talked to a few of Morgana’s ladies and Gwen as a litmus test.

He only marked six coughs for the whole rest of the day, and had almost 120 under the scribbled “A”. He cursed quietly under his breath where he sat in the courtyard.

Gaius looked up expectantly when Merlin came in.

“Well, any news?”

Merlin tossed the parchment to the desk and face planted onto his bed.

“This doesn't look favorable, Merlin.”

“Ya think?” the boy wheezed. 

Gaius pondered over the parchment for a few moments while Merlin struggled to catch his breath. Once it was steady again, he said, “I know this may not be what you want to hear—”

“Just say it.”

“I think your theory may be true. You’re in love with Arthur.”

Nausea seized Merlin’s stomach. He’d always had an affinity for men, he knew that much—but in love with the crown prince of Camelot?

“This feels like an awful prank,” Merlin mumbled. Tears began to well at the corners of his eyes. He knew Gaius was right, he just didn't want it to be real.

“Oh, my dear boy.” There was a softness to the man’s voice. “I’ll, I’ll brew more potion, I’ll find some ancient book in my collection, you’ll be cured soon enough.”

Merlin nodded weakly. A sudden fatigue overcame him and he was beckoned to sleep. “Whatever you say, Gaius.”

-

The next week was spent under the influence of Gaius’ disguising potion. He began to feel physically worse, his lungs wheezed and made cracking sounds with every breath, and Arthur started to regard him with strange looks.

Merlin gingerly threw an apple at the prince’s head. He wasn't particularly strong on his best days, and his arms ached. The fruit hit the floor instead with a thud, definitely bruised.

Arthur scarcely stirred. “Oh come on, Merlin,” he mumbled, “you have a better throw than that.”

“I actually don’t,” Merlin said softly. 

The blond sat up in bed. He looked sleep-tousled and genuinely worried, and it stung. “You said you weren't contagious or anything last week, yet you still seem horribly ill. I know you’re a stubborn arse but are you feverish? You _are_ aware I can't afford to get sick,” he added.

Merlin began to protest, “I’m, Arthur, I'm fine, I promise—”

Arthur stood and clamped a hand over his mouth. _I can't really resist him even when I’m not this weak._

A gentle hand rested against his forehead for a moment. It felt blissfully cool. 

“You feel burning hot, Merlin. It’s as if you’ve been standing in the sun for hours.”

With the hand away from his mouth, the brunet attempted to argue again. “I’m telling you, I feel perfectly fine.”

“Your temperature says otherwise, Merlin.”

His tone reminded Merlin of his noble station. He had such a natural command to his voice sometimes.

He opened his mouth to speak again but he felt his knees give under him. His vision went black and the last thing he heard was the thud of his own head on the stone and Arthur’s panicked voice shouting for a guard.

-

“Merlin? Merlin?”

Blurry images appeared in his field of vision and he blinked his eyes open. His whole body felt as if it were lit on fire. Merlin could feel sweat on his face and neck.

Gaius was over him, holding a glass of water. “You're awake, thank God.”

His gaze drifted toward the window. An inky blue sky glimmered with tiny stars. It was nighttime.

“You’ve been in and out of awareness all day. I believe your fever has broken now. Drink.”

Merlin obeyed. “What happened?”

The man glanced cautiously to a chair across the room. Arthur was awkwardly draped across it, visibly asleep. “He carried you in. He fell asleep a few hours ago.”

Merlin didn't have the mental capacity to process that.

“I think the roses have grown significantly. From what I can tell, they restricted your breathing enough that you passed out. You nearly died.” There was an edge of sadness and paternal concern to his voice.

The boy slumped back onto his bed and Gaius set the empty glass on the floor. “I know you're probably afraid.”

“I'm very afraid now,” Merlin said softly.

His mentor gently squeezed his hand, which hung limply. “Does he just think I’m the normal kind of sick?” 

Gaius nodded. “He never saw a single petal.” He looked over his shoulder again. Merlin noticed how Arthur looked peaceful and calm in sleep. He had never had much time to appreciate it—usually, Arthur being asleep was a nuisance and more of an obstacle to be overcome than anything. 

“Maybe have him taken to his rooms,” Merlin offered weakly. “I don't—don’t want to risk him seeing anything out of the ordinary.”

“Okay.” Gaius left to find willing guards, promising to return as soon as possible.

The boy stared more freely at Arthur. His frame dwarfed the wooden chair. His hair was messy, loose strands falling down across his forehead and into his eyes. His arms were obviously crossed when he fell asleep, but over the hours he had relaxed and they now rested more naturally. The prince groaned quietly and shifted a little. Merlin reflexively went still. _God, I feel like a creep. I’m watching him_ sleep _of all things._

Out of sheer guilt he averted his gaze until Gaius came back. The object of his temptation was gently awoken and guided back to his quarters. Sleep was beginning to overtake him again, but he could have sworn he saw Arthur ask to be allowed to stay. 


	4. Wither

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> queen of consistency

It was late afternoon before his eyes opened again.

Sun poured in the window, birds were fluttering in the gardens, and the familiar sounds of Gaius’ research and medicine-making filled the room.

There was an odd dryness to his mouth. He squinted against the bright light and swallowed experimentally. It didn't help the sensation, but he noted something else.

“Gaius,” he said quietly. The man didn't look up, engrossed in frantic work. “Gaius,” he repeated, louder.

_Deaf old man._

“Gaaaaiiiiusss!” Merlin nearly shouted, stretching each syllable.

The older wizard looked shocked and turned to Merlin with wide eyes. “Boy, be careful about that! I doubt shouting and screaming will help your condition!” He paused. “Though I am glad to see you awake,” he added, in a much calmer tone.

“I think something else has helped my condition, as you put it,” Merlin said, a stupid smile appearing on his face. Gaius looked suspiciously at him and he crossed to the work table. He forced himself to cough aggressively.

More panic filled Gaius’ eyes and he nearly scrambled for his potion shelf. His vision trailed down to the book Merlin stood directly over, which was clean and bare save for coffee stains.

His mouth fell open. “No roses?”

“None, apparently. I swallowed when I woke up and I felt nothing, Gaius, no thorns, no flowers, nothing.”

“I’m relieved, of course, but—I can only assume your theory was correct?” he asked softly.

_I’d nearly forgotten._

“I suppose,” Merlin whispered. He tried to ignore the empty chair where Arthur had slept the previous night. He winced under his breath.

Gaius looked sympathetic. “Oh, my dear boy.”

Somehow those words were all it took for Merlin to almost burst into tears. He felt stupid, he felt pathetic, and somehow he felt more hopeless than when he was basically on his deathbed not even a day ago.

The old man didn't flinch at the crying. Once the brunet calmed down a little, he tried to talk though the tight feeling in his throat.

“He’s a prince,” Merlin choked out. “He told me—he said Uther wanted him to get married or at least be engaged soon, for political reasons or something equally stupid,” he paused to wipe his nose with a cloth Gaius offered. “But I’m not even a woman, so no heirs, and I’m not royal, and I’m not someone who will secure any alliance. Even if Arthur does realize he loves me it doesn't even matter.” He was overwhelmed by the ache in his chest and let himself start to sob again.

“I wish I could help,” his mentor said.

Merlin tried to breathe a little to calm himself down and reassured Gaius that he'd eventually be fine (despite a mountain of evidence to contradict that conclusion). He looked unconvinced but gave the boy a gentle pat on the shoulder in response.

He had started to dry his face and clean himself up slightly so he didn't look like a mess when a firm rap on the door rang in the room. Merlin froze. Gaius looked up curiously. “Who is it?” he asked.

“It’s Arthur, I—I came to check on Merlin?”

Merlin’s heart plummeted to the floor.

Gaius made eye contact. “You should answer it,” he said wisely.

“I hate it the most when you’re right,” he muttered.

He opened the door to a surprisingly haggard Arthur. His normally smooth face was marked with stubble that Merlin wasn’t aware he could even grow. His shirt was wrinkled, as if he slept in it and didn't change clothes. His eyes, normally bright and lively, looked dull and disparaged. Something about him looking like that struck a nerve in Merlin.

“Hi,” the brunet said weakly. He didn't really know what else to say.

“Hello,” Arthur replied. He cleared his throat very loudly. “Are you feeling well? You look a little, uh, frazzled?”

“You’re one to talk, you look like you fell off a horse four times over,” Merlin said reflexively.

Instead of responding with scathing banter, the prince just ducked his head slightly and chuckled. He adjusted his shirt’s hem. “You’re not wrong. Bit of a rough night to say the least.”

“To actually answer you, I’m much better. No more hacking coughs and fainting,” he said.

“Good, very good. I just came to see if you were alright, Gaius seemed uh, worried.”

“Doing just fine.”

“Excellent, because my father is hosting a ball tomorrow evening and I’ll need your assistance,” Arthur said casually.

“Why?”

Arthur peaked around Merlin at Gaius, who was still quite distracted in his work and not paying attention.

“Engagement reasons,” he whispered.

Merlin felt something gnaw in his stomach. He wanted to throw up. Of course he hadn't forgotten, but he didn't realize that “soon” meant “within the week”.

“Ah, I see,” he said softly. “Well, seeing as I’m recovered, I’ll be available. Just wait here, I can get dressed and—”

Arthur stepped forward and held up a palm. “No need. I didn't sleep much so I’ll be napping today. Don't need your help for that. Besides, you should still rest. Tomorrow will be busy,” he called over his shoulder, turning to leave.

“Of course.”

Merlin closed the door as quickly as possible without slamming it and slumped down against it. Gaius squinted at him, disturbed by the loud noise.

“Everything alright, Merlin?”

He just groaned into his hands as a reply.

“I’ll assume that’s a no?”

He groaned again and lifted his head. “Remember what I said about Arthur getting married? Apparently Uther is throwing a ball tomorrow evening to introduce him to possible candidates.”

“I understand now,” the old man said sympathetically. “I suppose this could be quite interesting.”

Merlin scoffed. “Thank goodness that my emotional torment is a source of entertainment for you.”

“Oh, that’s not what I meant. The parade of it will be fun, the drama, the intrigue. But royal marriages are usually facades. Shallow, political shells of relationships, especially with these circumstances,” the man said.

“I’m afraid he may never realize how he feels about me, Gaius. He’s being essentially forced into marriage by his father, he’s clearly very good at disregarding his own feelings.”

“As the heir, that’s how his life has always been. Destiny, and all that,” the man said, with a pointed tone.

“Once again, you're right,” Merlin grumbled.

“Maybe being confronted with the idea of marrying someone else will snap Arthur to reality.”

“You overestimate his awareness of reality,” Merlin said snidely. “I may be in love with him, but I will say that he may be the most oblivious person I’ve ever met.”

-

Exactly 17 hours later, Merlin found himself leaning against a wall, trying to focus on anything else but his very stimulating surroundings. Music was playing, people were laughing and chatting, and the sounds of eating and footfall filled any remaining silence. An overwhelming sea of formal gowns in every color shifted as the dancing couples moved about. The candlelight caught every metallic or shiny object in the hall, everything aglow in a warm wash of color.

He’d think it a jovial, celebratory scene, were it not for Arthur greeting a new potential wife every two minutes.  
It wasn’t public knowledge that this was essentially a glorified speed dating event, so the introductions were subtle, no huge line of eligible maidens or anything like Merlin had joked about. All of them were clearly noble at least, if their attire and manners meant anything.

He was only reminded further of how completely opposite he was from them.

Uther was always lingering by his son, acknowledging the girls’ parents or chaperones as their charges talked briefly. He seemed somewhat pleased.

Merlin could tell Arthur was not exactly comfortable. He’d seen his real smile enough to know that he was faking it hard for the sake of his father. It was hard to tell if it was the circumstances or the company that was bothering him. Possibly both.

Gwen was accompanying Morgana, dressed in something more demure than the other ladies but still appropriate for the occasion. She kept sneaking glances at Merlin, squinting her eyes in suspicion. From his vantage point, he saw her set down a goblet and excuse herself from conversation, crossing the room toward him.

“Who spit in your wine?” she chastised. “It’s a ball, you're meant to have fun.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “It all looks very festive, yes.”

“Please, there’s something else going on. I heard something about you fainting? I was wondering why I didn't see you for about a day or two.”

The boy sighed. “Well, my—” he paused to look around for eavesdroppers. “My disease, my condition, whatever you want to call it, progressed quickly. I got really sick, I passed out in Arthur's chambers, and he was asleep in a chair when I woke up. Gaius told me he’d been there the whole time,” he finished in a hushed tone.

Gwen looked pleasantly surprised. “Well, that's rather kind of him,” she said. “Obviously you’re fine now, I haven't seen you coughing or anything. What happened?”

Merlin winced internally but answered. “Gaius didn't find a cure, if that’s what you’re asking about. It, well, it fixed itself the way I told you it could. The day after I passed out, I woke up and my cough was gone. Like it was never there.”

His friend crossed her arms in front of her. “So, who were you in love with?” she asked confidently. “Clearly someone feels the same way given that you’re not choking on roses.”

The conversation was becoming too private to have in the loud, public space of the banquet hall. Merlin ducked into the nearby corridor, taking Gwen with him by the arm.

“Now, if you thought I was serious about secrecy all the other times I’ve told you to keep something quiet, I’ve never meant that more than I do right now. Except about my magic, but that’s it.”

She nodded. “When have I ever not done that?”

“Well, you haven't, but I hope you maintain the streak.” He dropped his voice to a bare whisper. “Through some basic process of elimination and a little detective work, I figured out that I was in love with Arthur.”

Gwen’s brown eyes went to the size of plates, but Merlin frantically gestured for her to stay quiet and wait a second. “So yes, that does mean he’s in love with me, but please do not freak out about this, I don't even think he knows.”

He could see her mind racing and she harshly whispered, “The prince? But, he—but you’re his servant?”

“I don't know why either, I’m just glad to be alive.”

“Oh you poor thing, I cannot imagine how awful it is seeing him talk to so many women. That’s not even unusual for Arthur, but I swear there’s a new one by his side whenever I look,” she clarified.

Merlin laughed. “Uther apparently wants him to marry. That’s why there's a rotating cast.”

“Even worse. I guess that explains why he looks sort of disinterested. I couldn't tell if something was wrong.”

“They’re all pretty, at least,” Merlin offered. He peaked around the corner to look at Arthur’s newest conversation partner. She had long brown hair done in complex braids, and only seemed to reply to Arthur with meek nods and single words. “To be fair,” he said, “if I was forced to talk to sheltered, stuck-up royals all evening I wouldn't be cheerful either.”

“Now, Merlin, I know you may be jealous, but be nice. One of them was rather lovely to Morgana,” Gwen scolded lightly. “There was another girl, however, who was talking a bit too loudly about how confident she was he liked her the best.” She cringed. “Quite uncouth for a princess or duchess in my opinion.”

As soon as she finished speaking, Morgana appeared. “Gwen, there you are. Merlin, hello,” she said briefly. “Come, I want to dance and I don't want to do so alone.” The dark haired woman beckoned for Gwen to follow and Merlin awkwardly declined, claiming to have a headache.

The women left and a jolly violin tune began to play. Merlin slumped against the cold stone wall and slid down to the floor. Sadly, Arthur's personal opinion of the girls wasn't going to change his birthright duty to produce an heir for Camelot. Even if he hated every single one, there was probably one he hated the least, and she’d become queen.

His vision had glazed over a little as he sat frozen. His ears had started to ring and he nearly didn't hear Arthur’s harried footsteps coming toward him.

The blond breathed heavily and sat beside Merlin, who jumped a little.

“Hello,” he said stiffly, averting his gaze.

“I have never met more boring, vapid, stupid, childish, and pretentious people in my life,” Arthur said, ignoring the greeting. “I mean, I’m no conversationalist, I'll say that, but God, I could barely stand speaking to each of them for a brief moment.”

“I’ve seen you look happier with a bleeding stab wound,” Merlin deadpanned.

“It’d be less painful,” the prince agreed. “What’s worse is my father gushed about every single one! Somehow!”

A small silence hung between them, with only the sound of breathing to interrupt.

“I assumed finding a wife would at least be somewhat enjoyable,” Arthur said quietly. “Meeting beautiful and powerful women sounds like a fantastic way to spend an evening.”

“Powerful feels like a strong word for that brown-haired girl with the braids,” Merlin said. “She’s scarcely more powerful than a dormouse.”

Arthur snorted in laughter. “Couldn't hear a word she said to me—though she said maybe five. In private conversation it may not have been terrible, but in a crowded banquet hall? Pfffft. There was no chance.”

“Certainly not a queenly presence.”” Merlin realized his input on what constituted a noble demeanor was probably unwanted, and quickly added, “In my opinion, I mean, from what little I know of it.”

“You’re not wrong.”

Merlin allowed himself to look over. Arthur's eyes softened as he spoke.

“Uther always told me what Mother was like quite often. He says she was kind, but firm, loving, always brave and selfless. A true queen, he’d tell me. A true royal.”

He sighed heavily. “I don't think I met any women of that caliber tonight. I don't think I measure up either.”

The brunet bit his tongue. He tried to construct a way to tell Arthur he thought he was honestly all of those things, despite also being a bit of a pompous ass, without confessing his love for him. He didn't do it fast enough, because Arthur clapped him firmly on the shoulder.

Is this the only way Arthur touches anyone?

“Thanks for the ear, Merlin,” he said sincerely. “I know this isn't exactly a relatable problem, but I don't know of anyone else who would let me complain to them so freely.”

“I am in your service, sire,” Merlin said, trying to remind himself more than anything of the boundary between them. Aside from status, Merlin was literally employed as his manservant, and he didn't want to accidentally let himself believe there was anything else there for his own sake.

“No need for the sire nonsense. I get it often enough from everyone else. And I’ll have your head if you breathe a word to anyone—” Arthur looked around cautiously, then continued, “but I consider you a friend.”

Warmth swelled in Merlin’s chest. “I appreciate that. Now, go back to being a pompous git before I get Gaius to check you for fever.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and stood. “That’s what I get for being nice for once,” he said loudly over his shoulder as he left.

-

Merlin later reluctantly returned to his post at the doorway in the banquet hall. He tried to keep ignoring Arthur’s suitors, Uther’s pleased expression, and Gwen’s worried glances.

It was an unholy late hour when the ball started to calm down. The visiting noblewomen had excused themselves to travel home, or retreated to their appointed rooms within the castle to rest before departing in the morning. Arthur made his way across the mostly empty room to Merlin, groaning. He reeked of wine and his eyes were bloodshot. His goblet was in danger of shattering on the floor and Merlin gingerly took it from Arthur’s perilous grasp.

“You need to go to bed,” Merlin said gently.

“I needed to go to bed hours ago,” he grumbled.

“It is very late, yes, Arthur.”

“I’m glad the girls left. Father was watching my glass like a hawk before,” the prince complained.

“I can see why,” the brunet laughed. “How much did you even drink?” The last few only went to bed two hours ago, and yet he’s stumbling drunk.

“Can’t remember.” He slurred his words a little and paused on the stairs. “God, my head hurts.”

“I’ll get you a glass of water,” Merlin reassured him.

Arthur slumped face down onto his bed and groaned into his bedclothes. Merlin busied himself with tending the fire. It was a cold night out.

From his starfish position on the bed, Arthur started to talk aloud to himself. “I didn't like any of ‘em.”

His voice was muffled and Merlin turned in confusion. “Huh? Are you speaking to me?”

Arthur didn't answer directly but lifted his head a few inches. “I said, I didn't like any of ‘em.” The slur was still thick in his voice.

“I know, you told me earlier.” Merlin returned to his task, but Arthur kept talking.

“All, all of ‘em, jus’, jus’ awful. Wouldn't marry a single one. I’d marry you before those girls.”

Merlin felt both his skin flush and his blood run cold. “Surely that’s the wine speaking,” he said quickly, trying to sound calm.

Arthur laughed. “I’m, I may be drunk,” he proclaimed, “but I’m dead serious.”

The chill passed through his body again, and he stopped poking at the coals. “You're not actually serious,” he said.

The prince hummed to himself. “I’m not kidding,” he said more clearly. “Half of ‘em were all over me ‘nd I hated it. At leas’ I get along with you.”

Merlin got up from the hearth now that the fire was appropriately roaring. “Right, you can’t sleep in those clothes. They’re soaked in mead and wine, Arthur. You spilled more than you drank.”

_Maybe he’ll forget if I just ignore it._

“I don't want to sit up. Head hurts.”

“Can’t you pull off your shirt, at the very least? It’ll stain if it’s not washed.”

Arthur began to whine like a toddler. “It’s sticky and I don't wanna, Merlin. If you care so much you can do it,” he huffed.

Merlin braced himself and cursed drunken Arthur’s loose grip on his goblet. With the man still laying prone, he started to pull his tunic up and over his head. Gently, he tugged it free from under Arthur’s torso and tried not to scream when his fingers brushed the skin of his back and shoulders.

“Could you be a dear and just lift your arms—there we are,” Merlin said. He folded the stained garment over his arm.

Arthur pulled the blankets over himself and sighed happily. “G’night, Merlin.”

“Goodnight, sire.”


End file.
